


kiss with a fist

by spiralpegasus



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Felix, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Fighting As Foreplay, Light Masochism, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Time Skip, Rough Oral Sex, also blink and you’ll miss it vague blue lions spoilers, beating the shit out of each other but like tenderly, blink and you’ll miss it reference to crossdressing, no beta we die like men, top sylvain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 15:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20311714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralpegasus/pseuds/spiralpegasus
Summary: Felix has a difficult time letting himself be vulnerable, even with Sylvain. The only language his body seems to understand is violence. He makes do.Or, Felix asks Sylvain to beat the fight out of him before they fuck.





	kiss with a fist

**Author's Note:**

> i love felix and im writing kinky sex about it
> 
> there’s physical violence, but it doesn’t get serious and both parties are enjoying themselves with the understanding that if one said stop it would stop. stay safe and enjoy

When Felix brings it up, Sylvain’s first reaction is to laugh. In hindsight, this is the worst thing he could have done.

“Fine, whatever,” Felix snaps, his face red with a combination of anger and mortification. “Just—just forget I said anything. It’s stupid, anyway.”

“Wait, Felix, no,” Sylvain splutters, grabbing at Felix’s biceps to keep him from turning away. “It’s not stupid—”

“Clearly it is, if you’re laughing at me!” Felix tugs halfheartedly against Sylvain’s grip, but the fact that he doesn’t forcibly tear himself away is a good sign.

“You just caught me off-guard, okay?” Sylvain says as soothingly as he can. He shifts from gripping Felix’s arms to rubbing them up and down. Felix relaxes by inches. “It’s not stupid. I want to do things that make you happy.”

Despite himself, Felix snorts, his lips turning up. “‘Happy’ is certainly a word for it.”

“Look, you usually follow my lead in bed!” Sylvain laughs. “I just wasn’t expecting your first real, actual request to be something like that. That’s it, Felix, I swear.”

Felix is almost fully relaxed in Sylvain’s loose grip now, and he leans forward to plant his forehead against Sylvain’s chest. “You asked,” he mutters.

Sylvain’s fingers drift to Felix’s hair immediately, tugging it out of its ponytail. “I did,” he says. “I just…” He hesitates. “It sounds like a lot. I don’t want to actually hurt you.”

“Idiot,” Felix says without any heat. He wraps his arms around Sylvain’s chest and huffs out a contented sigh as Sylvain pets his hair. “If I trust you enough to ask for it, then you can at least trust me enough to be honest with you. I’ll say stop if I need you to stop.”

It’s a kind of vulnerability and trust that’s incredibly rare for Felix to show, and it still takes Sylvain’s breath away every time he sees it. Even if it’s in the context of Felix asking Sylvain to literally fight him into submission before he fucks him. Maybe especially then.

“I can’t say I fully understand it,” Sylvain says. He grins against Felix’s hair. “But you know I always want to show you a good time.”

“I did put on a dress for you,” Felix says dryly. “I figured I could ask you for a night of weird sex, too.”

“That was a good night,” Sylvain reminisces wistfully. “It was a beautiful dress.”

“Was.” Felix tugs Sylvain towards the bed – just to sleep, Sylvain knows, because they just bathed and Felix hates getting dirty again right after getting clean. “You destroyed it.”

Sylvain laughs as he rolls onto the bed next to Felix. “I did! It was not my intention, but I did.”

As Felix drifts off beside him, Sylvain turns the idea over in his mind. Felix is a man who hates to be helpless. He trains relentlessly, refuses to be weak and refuses to tolerate others’ weaknesses. He’s callous. Rude. Cruel, sometimes. But Sylvain knows it isn’t because Felix doesn’t care – it’s the opposite, in fact. Felix cares more than anyone. Feels more intensely than anyone. If Felix didn’t care, he wouldn’t have cried when Sylvain almost died for him. Wouldn’t have stood like a sentinel in the cathedral while Dimitri spent the nights pacing and muttering to ghosts. Wouldn’t train harder every time someone takes a bad hit in battle, like he can protect everyone he loves through his own strength and force of will alone.

It makes sense in a backwards sort of way, then, that he wants Sylvain to _make_ him helpless. Wrest all that strength from him and hold him down until there’s nothing left to do but submit. It’s a heavy burden Felix forces himself to carry. He can’t put it down alone, but Sylvain – Sylvain can take it from him by force. Felix is strong, but Sylvain will be stronger in that moment, and Felix will finally be able to well and truly let go, at least for a night.

The longer Sylvain thinks about it, the more appealing it is, even if he doesn’t get off on pain – his own or otherwise – the way Felix does. He tucks his face into Felix’s hair as he closes his eyes to sleep. He might have to take his training more seriously this week if he wants to win, because Felix isn’t going to be holding back.

-

Felix can’t say he’s ever prepped himself for a fuck before going to train, but there’s a first time for everything. He and Sylvain had decided on the training ground in the knights’ hall, due to its smaller scale and its locking door as well as its distance from the dormitories. They probably aren’t going to be quiet.

His stomach flutters as he crosses the monastery grounds to the knights’ hall. As dusk falls, the grounds always grow quiet, and the silence isn’t helping his nerves any. He’s almost always the first one there when he and Sylvain agree to meet, but when he opens the door, Sylvain’s already swinging a training lance to warm up. He’s shed his fur-lined overcoat; it lies in a heap next to the wall.

“Hey, you,” Sylvain says with a grin, like this is a normal sparring session. “Do you need to warm up?”

“No,” Felix replies as he shuts the door and throws the lock. He’d been full of restless energy in his room, so he’d been going through sword forms for the better part of an hour before coming here. Without looking at Sylvain, he lifts his favorite training sword from the wall and gives it a couple swings. “Are you done?”

“All set.” Sylvain grips his lance in a more serious fighting stance. He’s still smiling, but it’s darker now, more predatory. A shiver skitters up and down Felix’s spine as he shifts into position.

“Any rules?” Usually there’s a short list before every spar – no hits to the face, neck, or groin. No magic in a martial spar unless specified beforehand. First to this many hits wins.

“None,” Sylvain says.

Felix’s lips twitch up. This is exactly what he wanted – no holds barred, no dancing around, no going easy. Even if one of them goes too far, the dull weapons and Sylvain’s healing magic mean there’s not a lot of real risk.

“On my mark,” he says. When he gives the signal, Sylvain is on him faster than he’s come to expect, lance swinging with intent.

Felix is rarely on the defensive at the start of a fight. He prides himself on his aggressiveness and his quick reflexes. But he’s losing step after step of ground to Sylvain now, barely catching the lance’s strikes with his sword.

“What’s wrong?” Sylvain mocks as he scores a jab to Felix’s arm.

“Shut up,” Felix hisses and ducks the next swing. He pivots and aims a low thrust at Sylvain’s stomach, forcing Sylvain to pull back and regaining a step of precious breathing room.

“C’mon, don’t take me lightly!” Sylvain aims a kick for Felix’s knees, and the dirty move catches Felix so off-guard that it almost works. He twists away and punches at Sylvain’s face – it’s not something he expects to connect, and it doesn’t, but the way it makes Sylvain jerk backwards is what Felix needs to regain his footing.

They both fall silent save for their pants and grunts of exertion as the spar continues. Felix finds himself continually forced onto the defensive, but he’s not letting Sylvain get a win without a damn fight. He manages to get a good hit on Sylvain’s ribs, but Sylvain forces his sword aside with a sweep of his lance and knees him in the gut. When Felix is forced to grab the lance with his hand to prevent a hit, Sylvain jerks it sideways and sends Felix stumbling. 

His muscles burn. The bruises forming all over his body throb. Sylvain’s taken a good few hits too and he’s breathing hard, but he’s been using his larger frame and his superior raw strength to push Felix where it counts.

It’s not a fair or clean fight. Both Felix and Sylvain use their feet and hands in addition to their weapons, though it feels like Felix has been receiving the brunt of Sylvain’s fists. They jerk each other around by the clothing and they go for the knees. It’s violent and dirty.

Felix grins openly as he readjusts his grip on his sword. This is exactly what he needed.

“Whatcha smiling for?” Sylvain pants with a grin of his own. “Looks to me like you’re losing.”

“Looks to me like you’re getting cocky,” Felix replies sharply as he goes in for another swing. He jerks to a halt as Sylvain slings fire at him, and he stumbles to the side in a sloppy dodge as it burns past his shoulder.

As he watches the unexpected spell dissolve into the air beside him, a solid weight crashes into his front. Sylvain has discarded his lance, and he wrenches Felix’s sword from him and tosses it aside. Felix struggles, but Sylvain digs his knee into Felix’s ribs and wrestles both his wrists to the ground.

“Do you yield?” Sylvain breathes, leaning close to Felix’s face. He tightens his grip to the point of pain. Felix lets out a breathy whine.

Sylvain’s knee presses harder against the bruises he knows are forming on Felix’s torso. He shifts Felix’s wrists to a single hand and uses the other to grab Felix by the jaw, forcing Felix to look at him.

“I said,” he murmurs dangerously, nails digging into the red welts on Felix’s face, “do you yield?”

Felix’s eyes flutter shut. His breathing is shaky, both from arousal and from Sylvain’s weight against his bruised chest. He’s weak. In pain. He’s been beaten.

“I yield,” he whispers.

-

Felix always has fight in him when they fuck. He bites and scratches, demands and curses; it always feels a bit like a fight for dominance even at its gentlest, like Felix can never quite bring himself to let his guard down entirely. Sylvain loves what they do and he wouldn’t have Felix any other way, but.

But.

This Felix is limp, compliant. The fight’s been quite literally beaten out of him. It’s a sight Sylvain never thought he’d enjoy. But Felix asked, and Felix trusts him, and Felix wants to be vulnerable for Sylvain and this is the only way he knows how.

His face is red with what will be bruises by tomorrow morning. He whimpers when Sylvain digs his fingers into his jaw and tilts his face from side to side to observe the damage he’s left with his lance and his fists. His eyes are shut, tears forming in the corners. And he’s unmistakably hard against Sylvain’s thigh.

Sylvain releases Felix’s wrists and eases the pressure off his chest, shifting so he’s straddling Felix’s waist instead of leaning on it. He lifts the hem of Felix’s shirt, and this is where Felix would normally snap that he could do it himself. But Felix lets Sylvain undress him and makes it easier when he can, lifting his arms and leaving them sprawled above his head even after Sylvain tosses the shirt to the side. His eyes flutter open, and they’re soft and unfocused in a way Sylvain almost never sees.

“There we go,” Sylvain says. He runs his hands up Felix’s sides, traces the lines of muscle and the jut of his ribs, tweaks his nipples and laughs when it makes Felix cry out. His weight is keeping Felix from bucking against him, but he can feel the shift of Felix’s thighs, feels how badly Felix wants friction against his aching cock.

“Sylvain,” Felix gasps.

Sylvain ducks his head to Felix’s sensitive throat. Felix whimpers when Sylvain starts to lick and suck, his hands flying to Sylvain’s hair and grabbing.

“Ah ah,” Sylvain breathes against Felix’s wet skin, and smirks at the shiver he gets in response. He sits up and removes Felix’s hands, gripping his bruised wrists and pressing them back against the floor. “Behave.”

“Sylvain,” Felix says again, his voice practically a whine. He moans shamelessly when Sylvain presses his wrists down harder, nails digging into skin.

“I thought I beat all the fight out of you. Didn’t you say you yield, or do you need another demonstration of who’s stronger here?”

Felix bucks against him. “J-just—just get on with it—”

“Last I checked, I was the one in charge,” Sylvain says. He’s on his hands and knees above Felix, crowding him against the floor and brushing his lips against Felix’s as he talks without making any real contact. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Not if you’re going to- _ah,”_ Felix’s voice cracks as Sylvain shifts one of his knees to press against Felix’s crotch. “Going to keep being a tease!”

“Really, now?” Sylvain leans more weight on Felix’s clothed dick until it has to be painful. Felix gasps and squirms. “Doesn’t look to me like you have a lot of say in the matter.” Even now, even beaten into submission, Felix is putting on the performance of a struggle. It really is difficult for him to let go.

“I can think of a better use for your mouth than complaining,” Sylvain continues, almost casually. He releases Felix’s wrists and shuffles up his torso until his crotch is level with Felix’s face.

There’s a hazy look in Felix’s eyes, but he still opens his mouth as if to say something. Sylvain grabs the back of his head and crushes his face against his clothed crotch instead.

“Isn’t that better?” Sylvain asks him playfully as he grinds against Felix’s mouth. Felix moans, and Sylvain can feel the wetness of his tongue even through his pants. He’s having fun teasing Felix, but Sylvain is only human. He unlaces the front of his pants and takes his dick out, giving it a few pumps before guiding Felix’s mouth to the tip.

Felix himself likes to tease Sylvain, most of the time. He’ll lick the tip and kiss down the shaft and refuse to give Sylvain relief until he damn well feels like it.

Not tonight. Felix lets Sylvain feed his dick into his mouth without complaint, moaning around the shaft and laving his tongue down the sides. Sylvain grips the base of his cock with one hand and fists Felix’s hair with the other, sliding Felix’s head up and down like he’s just a toy Sylvain is using to jerk off.

“Yeah, that’s better,” Sylvain groans. He forces Felix’s head down his cock until he chokes on it, tears springing to his eyes. He holds him there for just a second before he pulls Felix’s head off his cock to let him breathe, coughing and spluttering. “I beat you, Felix. I was stronger. Just give up and let me have you.”

Felix whines and strains against Sylvain’s grip on his hair, trying to get his mouth back on Sylvain’s dick. Sylvain laughs and lets him.

“Isn’t that easier?” Sylvain says softly, petting Felix’s hair as he sucks Sylvain back down. The angle makes it hard for Felix to go too deep, but he’s trying to make up for it with his tongue. “Just let go, Felix. Just for tonight—nngh, fuck,” he gasps as Felix tongues his slit, “let me be stronger than you.”

Felix moans brokenly. Sylvain grabs one of Felix’s hands and guides it to his thigh so he’ll feel it if Felix needs to tap out.

Then he lowers Felix’s head to the ground and starts fucking his face in earnest.

“You feel—you feel so good, Felix, fuck,” Sylvain gasps out as he shoves his cock down Felix’s throat. Felix gurgles around his dick, his mouth making wet, sinful noises with every thrust. _He wanted me to fuck him til he cried,_ Sylvain thinks dazedly. There’s tears and snot running down Felix’s face as Sylvain keeps fucking his throat. _This is definitely one way to do it._

Felix’s mouth is always enough to drive Sylvain crazy, and he knows he’ll come way too soon if he keeps this up. Reluctantly, he pulls out of Felix’s mouth, lazily jerking off above Felix’s face. Felix, red-faced, wrecked and panting, whimpers as Sylvain smears his spit-slick cock across his cheeks.

“Goddess, I just wanna come all over your face,” Sylvain groans.

“Sylvain,” Felix croaks, his voice absolutely wrecked. Sylvain’s cock jumps at the sound.

“Yeah, I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?” he teases Felix. He stands up and strips his own clothes off before kneeling to shimmy Felix’s pants down his thighs. Felix lifts his hips to make it easier, and Sylvain tosses the pants into the same pile as the rest of their discarded clothing. He pulls Felix’s legs apart and kneels between them.

“You’re so sweet like this,” Sylvain coos, leaning over Felix’s torso and boxing him in with his elbows on either side of his face. He gives Felix’s swollen lips a gentle kiss and smiles when Felix chases him as he pulls away. “Just needed to get tossed around a bit, show you there’s someone who can be strong for you, huh?”

“Please—please, Sylvain, I—”

“I’ll take good care of you,” Sylvain says as he moves to kiss down Felix’s neck. He sinks his teeth in hard enough to bruise, and Felix wails. Sylvain ruts down against Felix, their hard cocks grinding against each other, and Felix’s cry tapers off into a broken moan.

“Fuck, Sylvain, _please,”_ Felix practically sobs.

“Aw, how can I say no when you sound like that?” Sitting up and hitching Felix’s hips up, Sylvain shoves a finger into Felix’s hole without warning. Felix howls, back arching, as Sylvain curls his finger. “And how gracious of you, getting yourself nice and ready for me.”

Felix prepped himself right before they fought, but it’s not going to be enough for him to take Sylvain’s dick. Sylvain fumbles for his discarded overcoat and pulls the bottle of lube out of the pocket. He drizzles it over his fingers and pushes two into Felix, crooking them just right and grinning when Felix thrashes and cries. With his free hand, he presses a thumb against a forming bruise on Felix’s ribcage and watches Felix’s cock jump.

“You really are a slut for pain,” he says, digging his thumb in harder. “You take it even better than you give it.”

“Please, just—” Tears are streaming down Felix’s face. Sylvain has never seen him cry when they fuck, and he’s not sure how he feels about how much it turns him on. “Just—just fuck me, please, please—”

It might hurt a bit for Felix to take Sylvain right now, but it’s becoming difficult for Sylvain to hold back, especially when Felix is crying and begging for his dick. He slides his fingers out and positions himself at Felix’s entrance. Slicking his cock with more lube, he hooks Felix’s legs over his shoulders, bends Felix in half, and sinks his cock into Felix’s body.

His groan is drowned out by Felix’s howl of pleasure. Felix is hot and tight around him, and he knows he’s not going to last long.

“Feel good?” he pants into Felix’s ear.

“Move, please, move,” Felix sobs as his nails claw at Sylvain’s back.

Sylvain’s too turned on to tease him. He pulls all the way out and slams back in just to listen to Felix cry out. His thrusts are deep and fast, drawing broken _ah, ah, ah_s from Felix’s open, drooling mouth. He leans his weight on one hand and uses the other to jerk Felix off.

“Sylvain, I—I—”

“Me too,” Sylvain groans. Felix tightens around him, and it topples him over the edge, spilling into Felix’s body. Felix comes shortly after with a broken sob, painting his own stomach white.

Sylvain pulls out gingerly, watching his own come leak from Felix’s swollen hole. He gathers some on his finger and pushes it back in, grinning when Felix whimpers.

“A little sensitive?” he asks as he gently moves his finger in and out. Felix throws an arm over his eyes and jerks his head to the side.

“Please, I—I can’t,” he whispers brokenly. It’s the most vulnerable Sylvain has ever seen him, and he pulls his finger out immediately. He rolls off Felix, sits up, and collects Felix’s trembling body against his chest.

“You good?” he asks tenderly, pushing Felix’s sweaty hair out of his face.

“I’m great,” Felix slurs. He presses his cheek to Sylvain’s chest. There’s a bruise there from their fight, and Felix presses a kiss to it.

“Aw, babe, you’re drooling.” Sylvain thumbs the saliva off Felix’s chin. He’s soft like this. Open and trusting, almost completely limp in Sylvain’s arms. 

“Mm.” Felix shuts his eyes and snuggles more firmly against Sylvain, clearly not listening. Sylvain considers telling him they should probably leave soon, but it doesn’t seem right to disturb him, so he strokes his fingers through Felix’s damp hair and lets him be for now.

Sylvain isn’t sure how long he sits there, Felix in his lap drifting between various levels of awareness. He feels like he should probably give Felix some water or something. And a bath. And some salve – Goddess, looking at Felix now, Sylvain really did a number on him. It’s a heady mix of guilt and pride he feels, looking at what will surely become dark bruises all over Felix’s body. He’s sure he’s got plenty to match.

“Alright, come on,” he says when he feels enough time has passed. He gently removes Felix from his lap. He doesn’t expect the heartbreaking whine he gets for his effort, but they really can’t stay on the floor of the knights’ hall all night.

“Sylvain,” Felix whispers.

“I’m right here. Just getting dressed.” Sylvain hurriedly pulls his pants and his shirt on, then turns to look at Felix, who’s propped up on one elbow but not looking very inclined to move.

“Goddess, you’re still covered in come,” Sylvain mutters. He picks up his coat and stoops to wrap Felix in it before gathering Felix into his arms. He grunts as he lifts Felix up. Felix wraps his arms around Sylvain’s neck, making it a little easier to carry him. He’s smaller than Sylvain, but not by that much.

“My clothes,” Felix mutters. Sylvain sighs and crouches, letting Felix snake a hand out to pluck his shirt and pants from the floor.

Sylvain feels a little bad about not cleaning up the hall more thoroughly, but he’d feel worse if he didn’t look after this soft, vulnerable version of Felix. The monastery grounds are dark and silent as Sylvain carries Felix to the bathhouse. They don’t run into anyone. Sylvain’s glad for it, both for Felix’s sake and because he never doesn’t want anyone to see Felix like this except for him. He was the one who took Felix apart, and he’s the one who’s going to put him back together again. It’s not anyone else’s right.

The bathhouse has drinking water for people who get lightheaded from the steam, so as the basin fills up, Sylvain coaxes Felix into sipping from a glass. He seems to be coming back to himself, if the scowl Sylvain gets for laughing when he spills water on himself is any indicator.

“C’mon, into the tub,” Sylvain says, helping Felix stand and climb into the basin. When Felix is settled, Sylvain slides in behind him, pulling Felix against his chest.

“Feels good,” Felix whispers, leaning his head back against Sylvain’s chest. Sylvain scoops some water into Felix’s hair and runs his fingers through to get out some of the tangles.

“You were really beautiful,” Sylvain says, just as quietly. He plucks a washcloth from the side of the basin and gently starts to dab the spit and sweat from Felix’s face. “Thank you for letting me see you like that.”

“Idiot,” Felix says faintly. He closes his eyes as Sylvain swipes the cloth around them. “What, I’m not usually beautiful?”

Sylvain huffs out a laugh as he puts some soap on the cloth and starts washing Felix’s chest. “You know what I mean, Felix.” His voice is rough and tender.

Felix’s face is flushed red. “Yeah,” he says finally. “…Thank you. For doing it.”

“Believe me, it was my pleasure.” Sylvain nudges Felix. “Dunk your hair. I’ll wash it for you.”

The rest of the bath passes by in relative silence. Felix insists on washing Sylvain’s hair too, which is something he’s never done. There’s tenderness in the movement of Felix’s fingers on Sylvain’s scalp, and Sylvain thinks maybe next time it should be him in Felix’s place. There’s a certain appeal in closing his eyes and just letting Felix take care of him.

They make their way back to their quarters, sore and tired but clean. Sylvain scoops Felix back into his arms to carry him. Felix offers a token protest but doesn’t really seem to mind, considering Sylvain just beat him into submission and then fucked him within an inch of his life, and Sylvain carrying him back to bed is probably the least he can do.

Felix is already mostly asleep when Sylvain shuts the door to their quarters and lowers him into their bed. He cracks an eye open as Sylvain pulls back the covers, kicks off his shoes, and slides in beside him.

“You actually trained this week,” he says. His voice is still rough from their earlier activities. 

Sylvain lets out a startled laugh. “Uh. Yeah, actually. I went to Dedue for pointers with hand-to-hand.”

Felix snorts and presses his forehead against Sylvain’s chest. “I can’t believe this is what it takes to make you take your training seriously,” he mutters. He’s clearly drifting off again.

Carding his fingers through Felix’s hair, Sylvain closes his eyes. They both sleep in the next morning, training be damned.

**Author's Note:**

> years since i’ve posted any writing online and this is what i come up with. anyway i love three houses and i love sylvain/felix and i genuinely hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> edit: cosu @justonevice drew some INCREDIBLE art for this fic!!! it’s very very spicy!!!! pls look at it [here](%E2%80%9C) and send love!!!!


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